tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51523367408054892722024-03-21T21:43:48.677-07:00Room with a PewExploring my life as a Catholic womanAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-73668437809472492032018-09-11T14:57:00.000-07:002018-09-11T17:32:07.399-07:00Like a Good Mama Should<!--[if !mso]>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYKlkTYxPc8E81qttghI9vGKWpf8FT6PaAYvxLtr259xglEXx1xM3hUSLaqeQaiVCE0y2VUJRJLD2vfpfjn9kZhn2uYDt1Cf79w594dM97HykzRpQkKO5g-AT21REICHge_EDUjgSqzg/s1600/Myth+of+the+ideal+mother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="580" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYKlkTYxPc8E81qttghI9vGKWpf8FT6PaAYvxLtr259xglEXx1xM3hUSLaqeQaiVCE0y2VUJRJLD2vfpfjn9kZhn2uYDt1Cf79w594dM97HykzRpQkKO5g-AT21REICHge_EDUjgSqzg/s320/Myth+of+the+ideal+mother.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Maybe our impression acting like a good mama should has <br />changed over the last 60 years, but comparing to an outward <br />ideal is an age old problem</span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I have the horrible
habit of comparing myself to other moms in the worst way. I tend to look at
them and decide they’re living, looking and momming like a good mama
should. For example, a few months ago, I was shopping at Trader Joe’s when I
saw a woman whom I can only describe as the perfectly boho chic organic mom. </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">As I tucked my extra baby weight under the waistband of my jeans
that still didn’t fit right, she wandered gracefully through the store in a
cornflower blue strapless, seersucker romper/jumpsuit. Her healthy one-year-old
son was comfortably situated in her spotless Ergo baby carrier, whereas my 5
month old (who was really small for his age) coated my hand-me-down carrier in
even more spit up. I had pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail to keep James
from yanking on it, while her flowing blonde hair looked like it was
professionally blown-out. At the checkout counter, she mentioned that they
would be going to the pool later if the weather remained nice. She sipped her
Kombucha and with her perfectly slender and toned arms, reached for her
groceries from the shelves with ease, and I judged her hard. </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5sgfPv6QSJ9OOuNnhWp42tBL22Xw_SzRL7TxFaBohgqyVsfizrxOlGgFYGRUARjmrLbSgU6gT_3hprXDAYTYf1pDwps3AVnif6otiTCpEn7aVjmfnOK2K98lCBaqQqV6uIP1X95k7B4/s1600/Heidi+Montag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5sgfPv6QSJ9OOuNnhWp42tBL22Xw_SzRL7TxFaBohgqyVsfizrxOlGgFYGRUARjmrLbSgU6gT_3hprXDAYTYf1pDwps3AVnif6otiTCpEn7aVjmfnOK2K98lCBaqQqV6uIP1X95k7B4/s200/Heidi+Montag.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Heidi Montag, circa 2007</span></b></td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“Thanks a lot for
setting an impossible standard for me, pre-plastic surgery Heidi Montag! Thanks
for being tiny and strong and in shape and for doing fun recreational things
with your son, all while demonstrating a disposable income that I don’t have
but wish I did!” </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I caught myself in
the act, apologized to her in my head, and called my sister in fits of laughter
to tell her about what I had done. </span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br />
</span><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Today, after having lost the baby weight and getting some new,
cute fall clothes that I feel great in, James and I tried out a music class in
town, and I fell into the same freaking traps. I had forgotten to put on my
engagement ring before leaving the house, and immediately felt insecure sitting
next to a very kind woman whose ring was big enough to sink the Titanic. The
trial class was free of charge, but we weren’t sure we could spare the full fee
for the other 9 sessions, yet almost every other family in the room had been
involved with these classes for <i>years</i>. And while I had used our stroller
to keep James dry from the rain, the all of the other, better mothers carried
“wore” their babies under their jackets, snug to their hearts like a good mama
should, even if they had older children to tend to</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Back in Trader
Joe’s, I thought the root of my judgment and insecurities was my
sloppier-than-typical, plump appearance (and accompanying self-pity), but
today, I realized that it has much more to do with the condition of my heart.
Here’s the gist: As long as my heart is rooted in comparing myself to the
world’s standards, I will never be truly satisfied. Why? Because my heart is
not made for this world, and the only judge that truly matters won’t hold me up
to the world’s unwinnable, exhausting standards.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I desperately need to lose the weight of the sin of pride
and unjust comparison! I need to re-root my heart in the Lord because this
comparison is evidence that it is bound to the wrong things. How do I plan to
do this? Daily prayer in the mornings, regular Reconciliation and
accountability with my hubs and my sisters in Christ. Thank the Lord for the Lord!!</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Thank you Jesus for
this clarity on a rainy Monday. Imma lift my eyes to Heaven like a good mama
should.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-41058757553273668312018-04-26T15:02:00.000-07:002018-04-26T15:02:42.826-07:00There'll Be Days Like This
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt;">Earlier this week was rough.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I've been reflecting on it, and I've yet to put
my finger on why it was so hard. I mean, I've had really hard days in the past.
I've lived days steeped in grief and anxiety up to my eyeballs. I've received
horrible news. I've put my foot in my mouth in a spectacular fashion that
damaged close friendships. None of that happened and still it was really
difficult.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
Here's the saga:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It started out as a typical Tuesday. No
visitors were coming, so James and I just got to toot around on our own. I had a
loose plan for the day: gym, shower, pediatrician, nap (for James), ecumenical
summit in the evening. I had my food ready to go so that I wouldn't be too
hungry while we're out and about. It was raining but it was off to a good
start.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Midmorning, I changed the plan and decided to go
to the gym after the doc because James put himself to sleep in his crib for his
first morning nap (win!). The day started to unravel when we went to the
doctor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I called last week to ask 3 questions over the
phone but they couldn't put me in touch with a nurse or our doctor, so I called
back on Monday to make an appointment for Tuesday. When I arrived on Tuesday
morning (on time, with a 3 month old, in the rain, just to give myself a little
props), they told me they had me in the system for Wednesday, not Tuesday. They
were able to work me in for an appointment at 2:30. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Change of plans: lunch,
doctor (again), gym, summit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We went home, James napped a little more and came
back at 2:30 to absolutely NO PARKING. While I circled the parking lot several
times to no avail, I called the office to let them know we were there and I was
put on hold for so long that we were walking in by the time I was
connected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then we waited for over 45 minutes to see the
nurse practitioner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was so frustrated, I almost started to cry.
While we were there, we found out that James has lost 4 ounces since his last
appointment. And he might be lactose intolerant. More almost crying. Then I got
in the car and actually cried on the phone with my husband and my mom. And I
cancelled my evening plans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I felt like depsite my efforts to nurse James, my body was failing me and my son. I
felt exhausted and belittled. I felt like my time was disrespected and my plans
were futile. I felt like God was offering Grace, and I was incapable of
receiving it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ever had a day like that? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It reminded me of being on mission trips, when
simple plans go awry, and when your efforts alone can't get the job done. When
this happens, you have to take a few deep breaths, pray and regroup with your
team. You have to pause long enough to remember that it's okay that it's not
okay. Deep breath. It's good to admit that it's so hard. Deep breath. It is not
for naught. Deep breath. Remember </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt;">what you're grateful for.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVxfnv-VPyEJ-EiDiohGb6DGFcdgZ47aFrLGsYkr8j3_O3VZuNz4ncugx_OPhUyTv3KRHPW5ebGXT0qAuSRT1hvoz5ZjnbVIunEA4CTow1I0V-C-3cFk2rfKnsOKyfg2XXrGeZRBQg8o/s1600/IMG_1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVxfnv-VPyEJ-EiDiohGb6DGFcdgZ47aFrLGsYkr8j3_O3VZuNz4ncugx_OPhUyTv3KRHPW5ebGXT0qAuSRT1hvoz5ZjnbVIunEA4CTow1I0V-C-3cFk2rfKnsOKyfg2XXrGeZRBQg8o/s320/IMG_1169.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>My two favorite men.</b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thank the Lord I have the best teammate ever, my
husband Patrick. Thank you God that our son is alive and healthy and that we
have the means to help him with formula and doctors and lots of snuggles.
Praise the Lamb for our incredibly supportive friends and family that always
lend a hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Last but not least, thank goodness that rainy
Tuesdays always end.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-28788389611523549542018-03-27T18:32:00.000-07:002018-03-27T18:32:27.593-07:00Netflix, Makeup, Texting & Lent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7KlxJ0LiH-NBixTFrCcVk2Vh5q1x_nE1cExkYdzmR1huuMDJ9ANM4HDpo4OHaUkHK8SQ5ty0TERq3miws0DAKvqgTPzeCxrBiK_ucpfcuP87Ep7pjKu0qXMsTWAtgprZeEcNFFxJ7oY/s1600/Lent+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="577" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7KlxJ0LiH-NBixTFrCcVk2Vh5q1x_nE1cExkYdzmR1huuMDJ9ANM4HDpo4OHaUkHK8SQ5ty0TERq3miws0DAKvqgTPzeCxrBiK_ucpfcuP87Ep7pjKu0qXMsTWAtgprZeEcNFFxJ7oY/s640/Lent+2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Holy Week is here!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was a newly postpartum mommy when this awesome preparatory season began so I only started fully engaging Lent about halfway through. However, when I began brainstorming prayerful sacrifices, it made me remember my most fruitful sacrifices. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What makes a fruitful Lenten sacrifice? In my experience, prayerful reflection on the strengths and weaknesses of my relationship with God and an honest admittance of what's standing in the way of making it deeper. What virtues do I need to grow in? Humility? Trust? Prudence? These questions go a long way in prayer, and they led to my top three most powerful seasons of Lent.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3. Netflix (and all other video content)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the middle of college, I was STRUGGLING with many things, including self-isolation and restlessness. In my pre-Lenten reflection, I realized that I avoided positive social situations and silence of all kind by staying CONSTANTLY plugged in. I mean, I watched TV day and night. I was always on the computer. Netflix and YouTube videos while doing homework. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">Netflix and YouTube videos </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">while going to sleep; I never, ever stopped. I was avoiding serious tsunamis of anxiety that were always right around the corner, and the more I avoided, the larger the tsunamis became. So, with a counselor's help and a priest's guidance, I stopped avoiding the silence. I read, I cried, I prayed, I made coffee dates with great women, I slept, I healed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fruit:</span> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though I got crushed once or twice by the tsunamis that I had been trying to keep at bay, within weeks my anxiety had immensely improved. I lost my fear of silence, and I discovered Divine Intimacy for the first time</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2. Makeup</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My first year as a FOCUS missionary was similar to the process of transforming grapes into wine - sweet, crushing and transforming all at the same time. As Lent began, my heart was aching and I was more vulnerable with the Lord than I ever had been. I was in the Garden of Gethsemane with Jesus during His Agony, and in many ways, I was experiencing my own. And I was completely set on convincing everyone around me that I was fine. The people closest to me were not convinced at all. I did not need to expose the secrets and ache of my heart to the world, but I did need to detach myself from makeup and the facade of having it all together and being a-okay. To date, this was the hardest sacrifice I had ever made, because from middle school up until then, I could count on one hand the number of times I left the house without wearing makeup. At one point, I cried for feeling so insecure, and stomped my feet on the ground, yelling, "I feel awful! I don't want anyone to know! I want my mascara, I want my lipgloss!" </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fruit:</span> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was deeply uncomfortable with myself as I was -- I thought I had been vulnerable with Christ before, but it was time to go much, much deeper. The Lord revealed lifelong wounds and gently started to heal them during this time of enormously vulnerable prayer. I had already become tolerant of silence, but now I began to dive into Silence as the Lord's love language. I detached myself from the need to wear makeup, and became okay with not being okay, even if other people could tell. I listened to the Lord whispering Truths in my ear, including that my Beauty has nothing to do with makeup. Better than listening, I began to believe it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. Texting my boyfriend</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For this one, I have to give a shout out to my friend Lindsey. In 2014, Lindsey shared with me the story of how she and her husband discerned marriage, and one Lent, they did not communicate with each other at all except by letter-writing. Intense? Yes. Purifying? You bet! So in 2016, when I started to date Patrick long distance and Lent approached, I proposed a junior option: that we stop communicating via text message. During Lent, we were challenged to make time for each other in different ways every day. We had standing Skype dates 2 times a week and called each other at free times during the rest of the week, writing letters when we couldn’t talk on the phone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fruit:</span> </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Freeing ourselves from texting gave us the clarity to see that we really </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wanted</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">take the time</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for each other. Because we did not have the instant gratification of texting, the anticipation of our calls was incredibly sweet and every time we talked, we were present and intentional with one another. The hiatus from texting gave us the space in our prayer lives to really listen to God and His call, in our case, to marriage. It kept our relationship from escalating too quickly and simultaneously allowed us to get to know each other really well through our phone calls and letters. Hands down, this was the most fruitful Lenten sacrifices of either of our lives.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It's never too late in the Lent go all in for your relationship with the Lord. Even reflecting on the Grace I received in the past opened my heart to the Lord in the present, and who doesn't want that?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What's the best Lent you've ever had?</span></span></div>
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</style>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-32487875973041636092015-04-09T21:28:00.001-07:002015-04-09T21:28:58.007-07:00Let Go and Let God<div><i><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">This is a guest post from my sister, Elizabeth! You can read more by her at Startling the Day: </span></font><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">http://www.elizabethhillgrove.com/?m=1</span></i></div><div><br style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In this culture of worshiping busyness, we forget how predictable our lives can be. Those of us who are of the traditional workforce (teachers, engineers, accountants, receptionists, etc) know which building in which we will stand/sit/run around in most given days. Let's not take that for granted.</span></div><div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My husband (an engineer) and I (a teacher of English language learners in elementary schools in Virginia) just returned from a visit to our lovely mish sister, Katie. I left our two day trip with a better understanding of how my baby sister (muhahaha!) spends her mishily mish mish days with FOCUS on Harvard's campus. In a word: everywhere.</span></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Missionaries live <u>in</u> the world, but work especially hard not to live <u>of</u> the world. We met students who draw from the soul-enriching energy that the FOCUS missionaries bring to Harvard. They know who they can rely on and I'm proud my sister is one of those.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So many of the sacrifices they make are obvious: they have to fundraise their own salaries, they give God the decision about where they will live, they have to reach out to complete strangers on a college campus, and they spend their days making themselves vulnerable to Satan's most precise hits.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That being said, the first thing I realized when I got home: I know where I will be tomorrow. Thank you, God! </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have never been more grateful to know exactly what to expect from tomorrow. We take for granted the lack of uncertainty in our day. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Where are we going?" "Can you be here in 10 minutes?" "I'm not sure if I'll be there then, can I call you when I'm ready?" "What do you want to do?" "What else?" </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Those questions have answers in "the real world." Missionaries have to let go of control and prevent that frustration that rushes over (me, at least) like a wave when teetering between decisions. God drives this bus, after all. Let's accept that and praise Him that He lets us think we have a hand on the steering wheel.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thank you, Katie and the other Harvard FOCUS missionaries, for giving me another glimpse of God's wisdom!</span></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVnIK_EOrMoOr17k3YfJ8SpeEt-t09gDpmEnB6hE7rlEc-lLYNOsYbziXltccaEI4NvBAjqISTmyezWlLFER-QKPYd-3Ab183rqTMgYg7O3Sb4b0Q3fhQQsw3HRKHngM7hevl7DuzPfE/s640/blogger-image--869924179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVnIK_EOrMoOr17k3YfJ8SpeEt-t09gDpmEnB6hE7rlEc-lLYNOsYbziXltccaEI4NvBAjqISTmyezWlLFER-QKPYd-3Ab183rqTMgYg7O3Sb4b0Q3fhQQsw3HRKHngM7hevl7DuzPfE/s640/blogger-image--869924179.jpg"></font></a><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-60666881725419805942015-02-05T10:32:00.000-08:002015-02-05T10:32:49.733-08:00My Favorite Things From This Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xcSvcQIqocMWUmCSJOctChlwFo15L_vUxXYfIMFF57dz1XHkx2pChKwylRJjAMwBUx2mkBlN-70SflfGuUxwKdOD2cXup5X4jRcm-JO6XzMWSV_pzzXWN8YMjJn46hLG5HuHZISF1TM/s1600/a-few-of-my-favorite-things-jan-7-2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7xcSvcQIqocMWUmCSJOctChlwFo15L_vUxXYfIMFF57dz1XHkx2pChKwylRJjAMwBUx2mkBlN-70SflfGuUxwKdOD2cXup5X4jRcm-JO6XzMWSV_pzzXWN8YMjJn46hLG5HuHZISF1TM/s1600/a-few-of-my-favorite-things-jan-7-2011.jpg" height="171" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yesterday and today have been totally awesome days with
totally awesome conversations. I took a psychology class in college where the
professor described this ideal work state of an artist, known as “being in
flow” when the work flows from them because of the perfect level of
challenging-ness and concentration. I think I’ve been in “flow” with Christ and
Evangelization for the last two days. God is working in my conversations and
interactions with these women and giving me glimpses of His eternal Joy.</div>
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Here we have it! My favorite things from this week:</div>
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I loved walking into the chapel and running into students
praying together as boyfriend and girlfriend because they want their
relationship rooted in Christ.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGWqP_zs88nUwYXLT70Szdmqm6AAW7E_maGirsDF6QXK0x6B20iQNBkcu9W3b5qqTTt_565qib0zhqnwXmRac2Grih4xUpBdX59dW1vr6WjFlmdp1n1VSDdt-hMokvIL9f69kWkrj1Fg/s1600/Roadtrip+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGWqP_zs88nUwYXLT70Szdmqm6AAW7E_maGirsDF6QXK0x6B20iQNBkcu9W3b5qqTTt_565qib0zhqnwXmRac2Grih4xUpBdX59dW1vr6WjFlmdp1n1VSDdt-hMokvIL9f69kWkrj1Fg/s1600/Roadtrip+pic.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when a conversation about adventures during winter
break led a student to tell me how they came to build a growing, personal
relationship with Christ through prayer, fellowship and the sacraments.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UHqPKdPwfiJeeJVFwLiPDfDkTfAWtQx3usGmGhnL-JGsGzzJblxENqJCiQEjJD9NPPpwkmp9cCqYCkUaIAlEZRPVs3Uj3qm0_wOJBHp_QzmqJHh3QIPK54aEUggMq6OitnoyCLtmwXU/s1600/nailing+Him+to+the+Cross.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UHqPKdPwfiJeeJVFwLiPDfDkTfAWtQx3usGmGhnL-JGsGzzJblxENqJCiQEjJD9NPPpwkmp9cCqYCkUaIAlEZRPVs3Uj3qm0_wOJBHp_QzmqJHh3QIPK54aEUggMq6OitnoyCLtmwXU/s1600/nailing+Him+to+the+Cross.jpeg" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved getting to a level of openness in conversation where
a student trusted me enough to ask, “How do you love someone who hates you?”
and I loved when the Holy Spirit reminded me of a homily from 8 years ago which
exemplifies the answer</div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDm9S9g9w9hMr3ZEsYOZfI7Pzl9uReD3UvbQtVSuyW420z4J38bYMh7mw9xJrxwl7AJak5YE_gcyHpyC3CWVTMXi4MqhjXNL_gWMnlnPZ7Yz-3kTpy03tfhHN6K9nvMmQ-cC0f5ZbDDY/s1600/Bible+study+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDm9S9g9w9hMr3ZEsYOZfI7Pzl9uReD3UvbQtVSuyW420z4J38bYMh7mw9xJrxwl7AJak5YE_gcyHpyC3CWVTMXi4MqhjXNL_gWMnlnPZ7Yz-3kTpy03tfhHN6K9nvMmQ-cC0f5ZbDDY/s1600/Bible+study+photo.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when multiple students asked me when bible studies
are and how they can get more involved.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtY1KEI4AztwHtYBTQHeUyIrMCLiUJT_XIRHZ4UyViVyKvX1cxlVXvvkxCH3do3QYbfgBcgjAiiOl1LVOMerW3nMJv6ACAD94Ex9nGWlrwkEXJRkCaYd-u9ATOKMBt8XqKkA73un2h_wA/s1600/SEEK+JESS+photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtY1KEI4AztwHtYBTQHeUyIrMCLiUJT_XIRHZ4UyViVyKvX1cxlVXvvkxCH3do3QYbfgBcgjAiiOl1LVOMerW3nMJv6ACAD94Ex9nGWlrwkEXJRkCaYd-u9ATOKMBt8XqKkA73un2h_wA/s1600/SEEK+JESS+photo+2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when students, inspired by the SEEK conference, told
me how they have chosen to devote more time to prayer and mass, and asked how
they can help their friends to know the truth as well.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1tAah4zzbljroVokAjvsJCLVRXJnZ3q-rvsTZKZCDa9L_43fah10x3ogo6mQlojfeaeiVRB7AE6a6YczHaclfwdsFXNe7y7x9bFtmB4PjGeo2i_jo75UWLm-gXGyCElkQs-KBt0FzJc/s1600/praying_chapel_Hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL1tAah4zzbljroVokAjvsJCLVRXJnZ3q-rvsTZKZCDa9L_43fah10x3ogo6mQlojfeaeiVRB7AE6a6YczHaclfwdsFXNe7y7x9bFtmB4PjGeo2i_jo75UWLm-gXGyCElkQs-KBt0FzJc/s1600/praying_chapel_Hands.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when I rescheduled my holy hour and make my way to
the chapel, only to find a student who needed to talk about an important
upcoming decision.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when I went from an “art date” at the museum to a
lunch date to a coffee date to a study break date to a group coffee date to the
chapel to teach someone how to pray more dynamically</div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved when the snow cancelled my bible studies but the
girls met anyway because they wanted to share in fellowship. And I loved even
more when students rearranged their schedule to have a make up study at a
different time in the week</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God is good! All the time! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-70052520636489636412015-02-01T10:45:00.001-08:002015-02-01T10:45:23.746-08:00My Debt to You (and scheduled repayment)<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my confession: I have avoided writing for this blog
for many months.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thus, it is time for some true accountability. At the very
least, I owe you writings about the following:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">SEEK 2015</span><br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The March for Life 2015</span><br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">The Start of a New Semester</span><br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Confessions of Winter: Why You Shovel Early</span><br /><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">How to Make the Most of Lent</span><!--[if !supportLists]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I promise that I will take an hour every Tuesday (Pew’s-day)
to write and post articles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrHqbvUkVZZghTJO_ccpdfQGblZuvqn7Ss-E7RcJjeFDOOYcbwJaGNFAkUnw6Z_PTTphxKT-leMye1vI9Bl8nljl-1ISZPcTqQZ5cgvprzAKDmLn2aC9k22kJMSMgwSCKViNoWOFIsGk/s1600/P1041039_edit_group.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrHqbvUkVZZghTJO_ccpdfQGblZuvqn7Ss-E7RcJjeFDOOYcbwJaGNFAkUnw6Z_PTTphxKT-leMye1vI9Bl8nljl-1ISZPcTqQZ5cgvprzAKDmLn2aC9k22kJMSMgwSCKViNoWOFIsGk/s1600/P1041039_edit_group.JPG" height="331" width="640" /></a></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope you can help keep me accountable to this!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God bless,</div>
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Katie</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-61001827343065630172014-11-04T16:46:00.000-08:002014-11-04T16:46:35.757-08:00Notes from Prayer: I Can't Save Anyone<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicy3mYy5zSfNU7nTvrKROUJ6UM3w1X0gSm0ObFf81_Py2I44jv6j8PLrod-ftOfvn7Y6132u_3UNGPTXx2Yk3BKrrq6V7_KLF56ggG8ytSMt32R2ckZw2qvAJJGXQO11cUdFUmLpafAG4/s1600/Jesus+saves+Peter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicy3mYy5zSfNU7nTvrKROUJ6UM3w1X0gSm0ObFf81_Py2I44jv6j8PLrod-ftOfvn7Y6132u_3UNGPTXx2Yk3BKrrq6V7_KLF56ggG8ytSMt32R2ckZw2qvAJJGXQO11cUdFUmLpafAG4/s1600/Jesus+saves+Peter.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>In the Gospel of Matthew, the disciples ask, "'Who then can be saved?' Jesus looked at them and said, 'For men, this is impossible, but for God all things are possible,'" (Matt. 19:23-30).<br />
<br />
About two months ago, I was praying in the lower chapel of St. Paul's, asking God to prepare my heart to serve the students that I was about to meet for the first time. I had just left the comfort of my family home to move to Boston, Massachusetts in order to begin serving as a <a href="http://thecatholicpew.blogspot.com/2014/08/life-is-very-good-ask-me-why.html" target="_blank">FOCUS missionary at Harvard</a>. Over the summer, I got a lot of positive feedback about my decision to answer God's call to serve as a missionary. I was and am very flattered by the compliments, but sometimes the content of the compliment didn't sit well. Some people would say something along the lines of, "Wow! Go save some souls!" and I would seldom know how to respond. When I read this Gospel passage that day (and keep in mind that it was the end of the summer), this is what came to mind:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfFO6oIjTnj03W_PwCEYf1VQ5g_lnIOX7RyJ17Dnoy2xotmOgwu29Khco-tL51XE1V27UVjcCfbNUdEywu44rDND3WY_nMXXimfdUA4Dz-uhF9cb14ISfhH84wIScX-u07VYoLH5sLaY/s1600/620042-kiefer-rescue-tube.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfFO6oIjTnj03W_PwCEYf1VQ5g_lnIOX7RyJ17Dnoy2xotmOgwu29Khco-tL51XE1V27UVjcCfbNUdEywu44rDND3WY_nMXXimfdUA4Dz-uhF9cb14ISfhH84wIScX-u07VYoLH5sLaY/s1600/620042-kiefer-rescue-tube.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>We, as missionaries, do not save anyone. If we think of life as a pool, we are not the lifeguard, but rather, we are the lifeguard floatation tubes: we are instruments and we are symbols and, when we do our jobs well, we point to the True Savior, the ultimate Lifeguard.<br />
<br />
What good is a tube that breaks? How helpful is the buoy that floats away from the one who saves? It is only when a lifeguard can employ the tube as it was made to be employed that it can have any part in saving a life because<i> a floatation device has no inherent saving power.</i> Any trained lifeguard is MORE THAN capable of saving a drowning swimmer without tools; how much more true is this for the all-powerful, ever living God? <br />
<br />
We are called to bear witness to God, to point to Christ always and to be moved and animated by God, who rescues all. My prayer became more specific following this realization:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"God, please draw me closer to You and allow me to be a helpful instrument of your Love." </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-64871791696655902232014-09-15T22:25:00.002-07:002014-09-16T15:24:29.562-07:00The Greatest Of These Is Love<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJOhMKLmDLt9pV4yr1_97Mhrfv5rz2cEFRz77k6MKzsxPpnot_TABQGP92UUAC5hAGP15LRmjT_VsMaR9NpQNWmhfqSUjL39TWYCFlN5wcnkhAAm_v762q9lQXNNRusH5Gmq28AhQPq0/s1600/1556366_10203999085716097_7696941526697225502_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJOhMKLmDLt9pV4yr1_97Mhrfv5rz2cEFRz77k6MKzsxPpnot_TABQGP92UUAC5hAGP15LRmjT_VsMaR9NpQNWmhfqSUjL39TWYCFlN5wcnkhAAm_v762q9lQXNNRusH5Gmq28AhQPq0/s1600/1556366_10203999085716097_7696941526697225502_o.jpg" height="240" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Typical Ave Maria sunset... Not too shabby, eh?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: black;">This
summer I spent 5 1/2 weeks in Ave Maria, FL with 400 fellow missionaries at New
Staff Training for our temporary vocation as FOCUS missionaries. For those of
you who have never visited this booming metropolis, Ave Maria, which is about
40 minutes east of Naples in SW Florida, reminds many of its visitors and
residents of the sets of</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrEAfkY9ods&t=1m26s"><span style="color: blue; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Pleasantville</span></a></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></i><span style="color: black;">or</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://static.rogerebert.com/redactor_assets/pictures/far-flung-correspondents/a-world-of-ones-own/the-truman-show-seahaven.jpg"><span style="color: blue; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The Truman Show</span></a>.</span></i><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Despite
the idyllic setting, most of the missionaries I know (including Yours Truly),
experienced at least one spiritual crisis during our time there, because we
realized how cluttered and chaotic and imperfect the "streets" of our
interior lives were. About three weeks into training, I spent 5 days panicking
because reflection and prayer had led me to realize my shortcomings, not only
in loving others, but in accepting love from God and His children here on
earth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpFDsXY9S5xtS6PcLdGRd4N17mF5upB2hHajIcuR6WB8crvPxnuzaFUvfyUai1OcOanl2EMZ-0phnyfNjF12DhNs5lZLymvvkplfTicoR2kF7oMZGtSmveRN6xUcodub6nRF0aSnB6mE/s1600/Trinity-Sunday-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpFDsXY9S5xtS6PcLdGRd4N17mF5upB2hHajIcuR6WB8crvPxnuzaFUvfyUai1OcOanl2EMZ-0phnyfNjF12DhNs5lZLymvvkplfTicoR2kF7oMZGtSmveRN6xUcodub6nRF0aSnB6mE/s1600/Trinity-Sunday-1.jpg" height="320" width="255"></span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As
human beings, we are made in the image and likeness of God: the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Spirit. Catholic teaching describes the Holy Spirit as the
fruitful communion between God the Father and God the Son: the transcendence of
love between the Father and the Son is so great that it is its own person: the
Holy Spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I
began to understand Love as God made it, as the full gift of self and full receipt
of another. For my adult life I had focused on how to best give love, but I had
actively rebuffed others' attempts to give their love to me. My insistence to
give but not receive was reflected in my relationship with God, and my eyes
were finally opened to the things in my life that I had withheld from Him. By
refusing to receive His Love in parts of my life and heart that I thought were
ugly, unfit, and in need of improvement before I could show them to the Lord, I
was actively withholding my Love from Him and from others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1
Corinthians 13:3 says, "If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender
my body to the flames, but do not have love, I gain nothing." There I was,
about to give up control over at least 2 years of my life in service of
God, realizing that if I didn't make a change in my life, it would all be for
naught. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Only in opening my heart to God and others, in loving and allowing others to
love me, will the mission I have been called to by God be fulfilled. There
is no other way. The broken heart that is open to the Love of Christ is the
heart that will be healed; it will radiate with particular light that invites
others to discover the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since
that week of crisis in training, the Lord has opened my eyes to His greatest
gift, which is an essential part of our human experience; Love changes lives.
Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta humbly reminds us, "Not all of us can do
great things; only small things with Great Love."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"And these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love," (1 Corinthians 13:13).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_53fqdQuJpo7My3Xnge2HhPzX3FuMUUxLMfmTKns3kAPW6_ssDB3mJ-17RvD-sO-CPhoUXRbcT4uxdLT4EH8OChEnALPMx51WVrJQaWoNmcfJCO8H7VvoGg124M7ZtUcTq0Mkay9qdKo/s1600/IMG_1026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_53fqdQuJpo7My3Xnge2HhPzX3FuMUUxLMfmTKns3kAPW6_ssDB3mJ-17RvD-sO-CPhoUXRbcT4uxdLT4EH8OChEnALPMx51WVrJQaWoNmcfJCO8H7VvoGg124M7ZtUcTq0Mkay9qdKo/s1600/IMG_1026.JPG" height="240" width="320"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Harvard '14-'15: Loving through Laughter since June 2014</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefZb7aJ9yN3boXKlJQM4G5Q0IGVbgQ3IhWnubYFPCujDJSUgpSmf2DAcNBNjGoiIjAtotkEseNl8oFKz90KKXCZRWODK6h50IEGk0pDKkJ8UOpdrHFUsOAj8VZmelB8BnhezV9w3k-do/s1600/Memory-Lane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefZb7aJ9yN3boXKlJQM4G5Q0IGVbgQ3IhWnubYFPCujDJSUgpSmf2DAcNBNjGoiIjAtotkEseNl8oFKz90KKXCZRWODK6h50IEGk0pDKkJ8UOpdrHFUsOAj8VZmelB8BnhezV9w3k-do/s1600/Memory-Lane.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(I do not own this)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In a recent trip down memory lane, I recalled a day in 10<sup>th</sup>
grade when our teacher introduced us to a brief version of
the Myers-Briggs Personality test. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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One question in particular stood out to me: Do you prefer to
travel the world or stay close to home? Internally, I immediately replied,
“Travel the world, duh!” But then I began to consider how worn out I got when I
spent the whole day out of the house, or how anxious I would be entering an
unfamiliar place without my parents or sisters as allies. “But I don’t want to
be a homebody!” I cried out in my mind. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As a fifteen year-old young woman, I was restless and
unsatisfied with my suburban reality. I truly believed that my life would be a
dreadful waste if I didn’t get out and go! I firmly resolved to travel
extensively and accomplish A LOT. I wanted to be one of the “key terms and
people” in the index of a history or science textbook, because that was the
only surefire way I knew I would have done something worthwhile with my life. This
desire was prideful, and it was mostly born of profound insecurity and empty
intrinsic self-worth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrvNGHUqkY9RTzEbtZAO3PDkklZ1ck1YuZ-chH7CtwLn_zF0S0BaLPi830fquwgHICh5IY_MlaI6OLmOr6ztCZ1adpsK5-V-LGM0jLNC9Lq0ohzP-4GAEYdwfT0PVGCXvFnqu4Zw13I8/s1600/DSC_6540-26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrvNGHUqkY9RTzEbtZAO3PDkklZ1ck1YuZ-chH7CtwLn_zF0S0BaLPi830fquwgHICh5IY_MlaI6OLmOr6ztCZ1adpsK5-V-LGM0jLNC9Lq0ohzP-4GAEYdwfT0PVGCXvFnqu4Zw13I8/s1600/DSC_6540-26.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Six years later, my life is exciting and fulfilling
everyday; I travel to exciting places regularly, and I am blessed to have many
wonderful close friends. I graduated on time from a well-respected university,
where I established a great reputation as a Psychology research assistant. Plus,
I’m employed, and am finally moving to Boston after 10 years of dreaming about
living there. Life is Very Good!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> Very Good,
but contrary to what I believed in high school, nothing that I just listed is
what makes my daily life fulfilling or satisfying. At 15 I was under the
impression that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doing</i> a lot is what
would give my life meaning. I woke up each morning and labored to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">earn</i> my place on the planet. I had a
pleasant life, but I lived in fear that taking time to rest would invalidate me.
I wanted to be the best at something -- at everything -- not for bragging
rights, but so I could be sure that I wasn’t wasting everyone’s time or space.
I ran and ran and ran until I could run no more, and I was forced to rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qdIdIBlvCaC_NIpbLOYqrczzS-ioKRgdWhpSmWd4arws8Uq9GD8lP_lrD_G3n8VoM4Bj0H_eslxz6EFN4LPcQfb8MvPeuf1u5wbLFRoqyvusvEwQBpGm6z-d3FX3BXNAnHn1fFUAft4/s1600/adoration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qdIdIBlvCaC_NIpbLOYqrczzS-ioKRgdWhpSmWd4arws8Uq9GD8lP_lrD_G3n8VoM4Bj0H_eslxz6EFN4LPcQfb8MvPeuf1u5wbLFRoqyvusvEwQBpGm6z-d3FX3BXNAnHn1fFUAft4/s1600/adoration.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Pat Dunford</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In a state of fitful exhaustion, I encountered Jesus Christ
in His Church. This encounter was a crossroad: I could keep living as I had
been, or I could embrace the reality
of God with all of my heart. When I found rest in the Lord, I finally saw how my life is His amazing gift to me. My worth was a permanent gift that had already been freely
given. God created me; I am His daughter, and as His daughter I can neither
earn nor lose the worth with which He created me. God let me empty myself out for 20 years so that one day I would open my heart and let His Grace fill me entirely.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz4fYcwy4aNpSDYquWicC8pChLxXIyVR7E2s4tFbWMry9u3Y1E5ToHem-jq4-CBgnSk67Oo-9L7Ue72YFAuL1O_xBXMSFyf5H-QIq4vcC07IBKR0OM0i9gG5iATgcMyCPKEV6Ggo_m8U/s1600/IMG_0856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz4fYcwy4aNpSDYquWicC8pChLxXIyVR7E2s4tFbWMry9u3Y1E5ToHem-jq4-CBgnSk67Oo-9L7Ue72YFAuL1O_xBXMSFyf5H-QIq4vcC07IBKR0OM0i9gG5iATgcMyCPKEV6Ggo_m8U/s1600/IMG_0856.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FOCUS Team Harvard 2014-2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Beginning August 20th, I will be serving as a campus
missionary at Harvard University with the Fellowship of Catholic University
Students (<a href="http://www.focus.org/" target="_blank">FOCUS</a>). My mission is to grow in my relationship with Christ, make
myself radically available to the students at Harvard, and walk with them as they grow closer to Christ. I will meet them
wherever they are, just as He met me where I was, and invite them to make God
the center of their life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not alone in this mission; I have many mission partners
who support me spiritually and financially in my efforts the help fulfill
Christ’s Great Commission (Matt. 28:18-20). As part of my missionary endeavors,
I will write updates and reflections every week and post them here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I can’t wait to enter into mission with you!<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-10668404597378739022013-04-09T22:19:00.000-07:002013-04-09T22:19:17.008-07:00I don't blame God<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigb1Q5WCJsp73Oz0hwKmYe2HnuLEvsyEYZN_Mic93AqQsbFruCV1z618kWIJlEArCbFGsAcOIwJTDa1xiBXW_5PnqyVKyRO3bGwXkUkmOIEs1EiHknkM6G9uQ5eAwyzQCs2YwcHDIIGew/s1600/385738_10150926810596632_202708372_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigb1Q5WCJsp73Oz0hwKmYe2HnuLEvsyEYZN_Mic93AqQsbFruCV1z618kWIJlEArCbFGsAcOIwJTDa1xiBXW_5PnqyVKyRO3bGwXkUkmOIEs1EiHknkM6G9uQ5eAwyzQCs2YwcHDIIGew/s400/385738_10150926810596632_202708372_n.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve always been blessed to have wonderful role models in my
life. One woman in particular has a permanent monument in my heart; she gave me
many things over the course of our time together, not the least of which is my
name.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My parents named me Katherine after my dad’s mom (who also
is known as Kay, Tappie, or Gramma). My sisters, Christine and Elizabeth, were in school when I was born
and both of my parents worked, so when they found out that I was joining the
family, my parents asked my Gramma to watch me during the day, rather than
putting me in daycare 45 hours a week.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">From the time when I was 2 months old until I went to
kindergarten, Gramma would come over every and make me scrambled eggs in the
microwave (scrumptious!), and help me get dressed. We’d go upstairs and make
the beds for everyone and then we’d watch TV and “rest our eyes”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On Wednesdays, we went to Claudia’s to get
her hair fixed. I have countless memories of sitting on her lap, snuggled
into her chest, and (forgive me) playing her underarm skin that fascinated me
because of how “it rolled.” In addition to going to the beauty salon, we ran
weekly errands like going to the grocery store and the library, and sometimes
we’d even go to the mall to get “French fries, ketchup and coke” for lunch. On
our outings, we’d stop to talk to every single person we saw who had a baby. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu8iWi2zLG4oz0ZpsvSBGJq6OcrDBSnO74EJijqk_oZ8LiCKi12o2HecsgglIpdHfEqtqyMewLpLNDJFCpMMfvkYF4HZbADd-wRudTChocORFy1bHNWm1AyyIjlBBkD_OmVzSDtWaXPo/s1600/208761_10150558768790019_7416126_n+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu8iWi2zLG4oz0ZpsvSBGJq6OcrDBSnO74EJijqk_oZ8LiCKi12o2HecsgglIpdHfEqtqyMewLpLNDJFCpMMfvkYF4HZbADd-wRudTChocORFy1bHNWm1AyyIjlBBkD_OmVzSDtWaXPo/s200/208761_10150558768790019_7416126_n+(1).jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mommy and Gramma had a relationship that every woman should
dream of having with their mother-in-law. Gramma was sassy and sparkly and
loving and she bonded with her daughters-in-law as if they were gifts that her
sons had brought home, rather than man-thieves who stole them away from her.
Mommy understood early on that a strong bond with Gramma was a gift of love,
not a detraction of my love for her. I formed incredibly close bond with my mom
and Gramma, and their love for me complimented each other. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjqwwly5H5FCyh0l-jAZiUtQdzV8tA3LQoFQe_O_9Yd8HLzqwNm85rLhf10Y8Z66xiHMyKbpjOwkWny2JDhXSFeGAD7wugrm815d8A1XbBVW6xMHjy54eiMIAUha-AY6Z8dPkXzQ4M7s/s1600/214_11413631631_7185_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjqwwly5H5FCyh0l-jAZiUtQdzV8tA3LQoFQe_O_9Yd8HLzqwNm85rLhf10Y8Z66xiHMyKbpjOwkWny2JDhXSFeGAD7wugrm815d8A1XbBVW6xMHjy54eiMIAUha-AY6Z8dPkXzQ4M7s/s320/214_11413631631_7185_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gramma and I were like peas and carrots. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was her Katie Bird, and she was my Gramma. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She shared with me
her love for young children, classic movies, cultural trivia, and true stars
like Lucille Ball and Billie Holiday. She respected me as a person from day one,
and by example, she taught me how to talk to adults and make friends. She
shared with me her quiet but deep Catholic faith, and she encouraged and defended
me on a daily basis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ll never forget sitting on the couch with her on New
Year’s Day in my sophomore year of high school. I told her that I wasn’t
excited to go back to school the next day because I always got into tufts with
this one boy. She turned to me, fire in her eyes, and raised her fist
indignantly, shaking it threateningly and fervently said, “HE’S HARRASSING YOU?! Why I outta….”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whenever I got my report card, she’d cheer with enthusiasm
for grades that I thought were mediocre. At times when my own spirits were quite low, she’d share her hilarious
point of view, and follow it up with, “You know what? I’ve never had any doubts
about you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As we got older, naturally our dynamic shifted. We’d still
hold hands as we walked across the street, but my hand would be the firm,
steady one now. When I was learning to drive, it would be part of my job to
take her to the grocery store or the doctor, as my sisters had been doing for
years. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gramma lived in Apt 242 in a complex for low-income seniors
or other individuals who wanted to live independently, and it was my home away from home. I spent an
inordinate amount of time there, making friends with other residents and determining the
subtle changes between the sitting rooms on each floor. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupS46hL_deCgcw9prIfdrqFk-USi3DyYqbjgZIEurCnMNcUOIMGJydY9WMonFsdh1vtJbWKEHNbCE9od-JHBDFEN1zG101MqqBueQOKKi-BhMbTqbs57UHx169JuGYmdiiI4o022Dvi4/s1600/grandma's+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupS46hL_deCgcw9prIfdrqFk-USi3DyYqbjgZIEurCnMNcUOIMGJydY9WMonFsdh1vtJbWKEHNbCE9od-JHBDFEN1zG101MqqBueQOKKi-BhMbTqbs57UHx169JuGYmdiiI4o022Dvi4/s200/grandma's+fire.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not own the rights </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On December 1<sup>st</sup>, 2009 (my senior year in high
school), a tenant on the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor lit a candle that never went out.
<a href="http://www.timesdispatch.com/news/update-nearly-evacuated-in-richmond-retirement-community-fire/article_3976a0a4-55e2-5a70-8cdb-2b9014395312.html" target="_blank">The complex caught fire</a> and though no one was hurt, she (and several others)
lost all of her belongings and her home of 20 years. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our community reached out, and we received donation after donation of clothes,
giant purses (which were her favorite), gift cards and condolences.
Unfortunately, that fire claimed a significant amount of her spirit, her spunk was greatly quelled and </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">she made a habit of falling in the middle of the night</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After living with us for a few months, Gramma’s best friend,
Virginia, came to Richmond to be closer to her and they moved into a new apartment complex. Then I went off to college to explore my life as a young
adult, and found my home in the Church. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQ1_h_xDZPWIvq8IFqCkd7Ufo7dKZ9bK-zZVPQLMifVT4Jjwlz-NqWpoAN0My5sFHrmQZ4UUFfHHupNX9TVPMRq2IYVZ1keu-9a3dUJV8pZCHGYLFbr08hyO9stt2CULTLRs1k07wldE/s1600/167243_10150163477016632_4637501_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQ1_h_xDZPWIvq8IFqCkd7Ufo7dKZ9bK-zZVPQLMifVT4Jjwlz-NqWpoAN0My5sFHrmQZ4UUFfHHupNX9TVPMRq2IYVZ1keu-9a3dUJV8pZCHGYLFbr08hyO9stt2CULTLRs1k07wldE/s320/167243_10150163477016632_4637501_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Gramma spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital in my First year, but she reclaimed small sparkly pieces of her spirit that had
burned up the previous year. When our sweet Joan Marie didn’t wake up the Sunday
before Thanksgiving, Gramma marched me up to her casket to pray at the Vigil.
She prodded us to laugh following Emil Daddy’s funeral on Christmas Eve by
joking with the nurses and asking, “Am I not your most adorable patient
tonight?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On April 6<sup>th</sup>, 2011, my mom called just before my
2 o’clock class. “Katie, I need to tell you something….” Gramma had been in
treatment for injuries she’d sustained from falling, and my dad had noticed a
change in her coloring. They brought in Dr. Lee, the same doctor who treated my
grandfather in the end, and he confirmed that she was jaundiced due to renal
failure. “She’s going into Hospice, Katie. I’m sorry, but this is the end.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I walked across campus, trying to breathe as
hot knots gathered in my throat and tears erupted from my eyes. I walked from
the Lawn to the church, and met friends there. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My friends, God bless them, sat with me as I cried and questioned, passing
time until Christine could pick me up on the way home from her school. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could not for the life of me figure out how the world could continue to go on without Gramma. How could it be that her time was up? It wasn’t enough; I wasn’t ready. How is it that the whole world didn’t know they were about to lose such an amazing woman? How was I expected to continue school? For that matter, how could I get out of bed and breathe air in and out in a world without her?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Christine arrived, we drove
back to Richmond and almost immediately made our way to her bedside. She was
unbelievably physically altered, but she was there; she wasn’t gone yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0TkGnXDQAikY8t2mpodroEcWuU92P8FAKmiABXl71CnR8ZOTiC1-8O8P282iws5EoyW8HHj606W1KPFVDAd0NbHZjEtB16dvEHe5XmHFuYAX9n0RZ_mNYrGEJ2mDLFh1q3NSR00ZBO0/s1600/189064_6837095018_4226_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0TkGnXDQAikY8t2mpodroEcWuU92P8FAKmiABXl71CnR8ZOTiC1-8O8P282iws5EoyW8HHj606W1KPFVDAd0NbHZjEtB16dvEHe5XmHFuYAX9n0RZ_mNYrGEJ2mDLFh1q3NSR00ZBO0/s200/189064_6837095018_4226_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family means more than just the 5 of us.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a family, we spent the better part of 3 days together,
and we all said goodbye to her in our own ways. In perfect form, she muttered
her last word, “holy,” as we prayed a Hail Mary circled around her. She died
peacefully at 1:14am on April 10<sup>th</sup>, 2011. To this day, I'm surprised that God let the
Sun rise that morning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I didn’t have great answers to any of my own
questions. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For a while, the world continued without her but I didn’t. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I drastically changed my course of study and became a part-time student. I seriously considered taking time off of school altogether. Slowly though, the memories of her lessons and
stories and time with me lit a few sparks inside of my heart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps769ZZYwY47oMZzaLxYefAJAU1cQnKwB7oN2Oh3hUxGURgKkq6V8tDmmv_QDyO1DBSp382CCxG5pfMoG2VmGSWZwsYybShb6C8E9Hqf6l_x4pvnsl0RgiZt7RZbA1cBL7oW7qAuFxSw/s1600/398181_10150923945501632_408231105_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps769ZZYwY47oMZzaLxYefAJAU1cQnKwB7oN2Oh3hUxGURgKkq6V8tDmmv_QDyO1DBSp382CCxG5pfMoG2VmGSWZwsYybShb6C8E9Hqf6l_x4pvnsl0RgiZt7RZbA1cBL7oW7qAuFxSw/s200/398181_10150923945501632_408231105_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talk about that sense of humor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At times when I need to hear her voice, I go to church, and
pray for her intercession. On days when I miss holding her hands, I carry one of her giant purses or wear her
“hip grannie” rings and stroke its curvatures with my thumbs. Almost
automatically, I've taken up humming nonsense notes to myself, just like she did,
when I’m alone with my thoughts. Any credit for my sense of humor goes directly to her.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In life and in death she taught me that everything was going
to be okay. I
don’t blame God for wanting her in heaven; I’ve become grateful for the near 85
years He lent her to us on earth. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Still, even two years later, it is unspeakably
hard to spend my day knowing that she isn’t living any more. But on those days when I
seriously question myself and the potential for success and happiness, her voice resonates
in my head like a powerful orchestra. She says, “You know what, Katie Bird? I’ve never had any doubts. Love
you!” </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I very much love you too, Gramma. Thank you so much for always taking
care of me. I'll be seeing you.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOwWR0lBsNjEHOug9pyprenRt8BsDwrAH-c-Xj2-VhfSoOUmLQqR6rsffbUjttDl3Bcrio33GRK0t0fQ3_5oQNI8YvXqI3rt3InKLnrZeo7o5USeNj3P8DIWWEEDwsZaJ12oYHLjPLVg/s1600/321183_10150461630146632_1414687032_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeOwWR0lBsNjEHOug9pyprenRt8BsDwrAH-c-Xj2-VhfSoOUmLQqR6rsffbUjttDl3Bcrio33GRK0t0fQ3_5oQNI8YvXqI3rt3InKLnrZeo7o5USeNj3P8DIWWEEDwsZaJ12oYHLjPLVg/s400/321183_10150461630146632_1414687032_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-72070124420036080612013-03-11T21:30:00.002-07:002013-03-11T21:32:48.758-07:00Tomorrow will take care of itself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a_ySkjThf5I8YZKDL8s05HMM0uBobNkQntaOwCRPLO1qXlaNYdDsdsktou6_HUqtW5YHRjDw8EoKe_X_xCdFisB8dsZbYGCXky9ErS98sALbS_8GiB4hNN7RNiQ1ikZLeGaiFllKJH4/s1600/first-world-problems-6412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a_ySkjThf5I8YZKDL8s05HMM0uBobNkQntaOwCRPLO1qXlaNYdDsdsktou6_HUqtW5YHRjDw8EoKe_X_xCdFisB8dsZbYGCXky9ErS98sALbS_8GiB4hNN7RNiQ1ikZLeGaiFllKJH4/s320/first-world-problems-6412.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am very blessed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Seriously, I have everything I need in life. Safety and shelter? - check! Food and clothing (in surplus)?- check! Love and knowledge of God? - check!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And yet sometimes I find myself unsatisfied or full of worry about my future. The rest of the world has turned this into a joke, adding the phrase "First world problem" to the end of selfish or mundane complaints. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When is it okay to complain? Ever? What about sadness? Is it ever okay to be sad when my needs are exceeded and none of my stress is related to my need to survive? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Complaining should be kept to a minimum, but I think it is easier to come by sadness when all of your needs are met. One year ago this week, I was in Saltadere, Haiti working with three men from my church on a irrigation system at the Catholic school. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWwPRno01OnUQo9vsGwVTGq-po7VVbTbd3fq7ZWd8QZSBIRuv2KVUqNL3o6euBYIAeNQsXsrkKsCqGG15lshvFRcmVCeuSbJaqyFuvinlbtwZvjvie0gPXqzMCAki7n7Pd0wGwH4z5w0/s1600/DSC00758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWwPRno01OnUQo9vsGwVTGq-po7VVbTbd3fq7ZWd8QZSBIRuv2KVUqNL3o6euBYIAeNQsXsrkKsCqGG15lshvFRcmVCeuSbJaqyFuvinlbtwZvjvie0gPXqzMCAki7n7Pd0wGwH4z5w0/s320/DSC00758.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our work led us to meet numerous students and townsfolk, most of whom have wondered about how they are going to feed or clothe themselves. We stayed in a rectory along with 80 displaced children who had no where else to go. These wonderful people had EVERY reason to worry, but honestly, they were the most joyful people I have ever met.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God is the source of all Joy and Love. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is something that our Haitian friends lived and breathed. They are joyful because they trust in the Lord. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUMduLztZHzBNyX7H4AUkHYoA-rnTpGG5MT55dZS6AhL9VyUzBwLCGmh_w1F2VVrtRVi6zXzEq7VhPVAiZc7Y-RFxntf8JsPrC_crDfCVxQFhvAB8gqvO9sXWLLHdRe9WAX2yETH2_kE/s1600/IMG_0128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUMduLztZHzBNyX7H4AUkHYoA-rnTpGG5MT55dZS6AhL9VyUzBwLCGmh_w1F2VVrtRVi6zXzEq7VhPVAiZc7Y-RFxntf8JsPrC_crDfCVxQFhvAB8gqvO9sXWLLHdRe9WAX2yETH2_kE/s320/IMG_0128.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the gas station where we were almost stuck for good</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I truly believe God worked through others on this trip to show me that He IS everything and He's got us in His hand. And His methods were as subtle as hitting someone in the head with a 2x4. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Example: Three hours after landing in Santo Domingo, our group (which consisted of Bob, a retired military man whose employment history is still classified; Pete, a water and irrigation specialist; Andrew, a Systems Engineering student and extreme outdoors enthusiast; and me--I'd like to say that I bat clean up but...) stopped at a gas station at 5am in the middle of rural Dominican Republic. Cutting a long story short, due to a language barrier and sleep deprivation, we filled our INTERNAL COMBUSTION ENGINE with DIESEL fuel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Exodus 14:14 says, "<i>The Lord will fight for you. You need only be still</i>." And He did.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> It took about 4 hours and a crazy "phone tree" of international texting, but we were able to find help to fix the car and communicate with our meet up point about the delay. HOW AWESOME IS GOD?!!?!! What a great cause for Joy! (And, for the record, there are at least 4 other stories from the week like this)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Currently, I'm struggling a bit to reject worry, and unfortunately the aftertaste of my trip to Haiti has been rinsed out over the course of the year. [My Meme would read: Didn't get my first choice summer job. Might be bored during 3 month school break.] So I turn to the Bible, and God uses the 2x4 method with me, once again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Matthew 6:25-34</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9k7Xe0c3x9JSTY3-PfSGvo43pYc-SFxPAIDciWjaq7qtbbxadBAPOEyULqltv-dXzRfwLbJyjX9C8Tlz-nCM0V8FAVB8oURHfZ7yp2JAqi1VLVsA_oqkVnZF504itYWYb3eSF87cGwc/s1600/DSC01095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9k7Xe0c3x9JSTY3-PfSGvo43pYc-SFxPAIDciWjaq7qtbbxadBAPOEyULqltv-dXzRfwLbJyjX9C8Tlz-nCM0V8FAVB8oURHfZ7yp2JAqi1VLVsA_oqkVnZF504itYWYb3eSF87cGwc/s320/DSC01095.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am with Alessandra. My friends joke that I<br /> brought a baby back with me from Haiti<br /> - If I had, it would have been this amazing little girl</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="text Matt-6-25"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;"> </sup>“<sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23308H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)"></sup><i>For this reason I say to you, <b>do not be <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23308I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)"></sup>worried about your life</b>, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?</i></span><i> <span class="text Matt-6-26" id="en-NASB-23309"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">26 </sup><sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23309J" title="See cross-reference J">J</a>)"></sup>Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?</span> <span class="text Matt-6-27" id="en-NASB-23310"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">27<b> </b></sup><b>And who of you by being <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23310K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)"></sup>worried can <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23310L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)"></sup>add a single hour to his life?</b></span> <span class="text Matt-6-28" id="en-NASB-23311"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">28 </sup>And why are you <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23311M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)"></sup>worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin,</span> <span class="text Matt-6-29" id="en-NASB-23312"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">29 </sup>yet I say to you that not even <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23312N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)"></sup>Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.</span><span class="text Matt-6-30" id="en-NASB-23313"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">30 </sup>But if God so clothes the <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23313O" title="See cross-reference O">O</a>)"></sup>grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23313P" title="See cross-reference P">P</a>)"></sup>You of little faith!</span> <span class="text Matt-6-31" id="en-NASB-23314"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">31 </sup>Do not <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23314Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)"></sup>worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’</span> <span class="text Matt-6-32" id="en-NASB-23315"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">32 </sup>For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23315R" title="See cross-reference R">R</a>)"></sup>your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.</span> <span class="text Matt-6-33" id="en-NASB-23316"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">33 </sup>But<b> seek first His kingdom and His righteousness</b>, and <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23316S" title="See cross-reference S">S</a>)"></sup>all these things will be added to you. </span></i></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><sup class="versenum" style="vertical-align: top;">34 </sup>“So <b>do not <sup class="crossreference" style="vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NASB-23317T" title="See cross-reference T">T</a>)"></sup>worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own</b></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-2022713354695215792013-02-10T09:25:00.000-08:002013-02-11T06:58:12.850-08:00Christian Lessons from Classic Movies, pt I: Girls sleep in the house, Boys sleep in the barn<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkb-flCWqDh2kGu2lrQsGhZwtrNlf7O9h991qUTiHZUblAmYFbDujqD37BbIrRwZMfIbq4DeGRRKSwWSaxOEa4-e7lXnL2DZhYQHzt7EnEwI1C5Y2eatymiIfz5qZD2UDJb-TbHi7vwY/s1600/Seven-Brides-For-Seven-Brothers-seven-brides-for-seven-brothers-5267603-720-540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkb-flCWqDh2kGu2lrQsGhZwtrNlf7O9h991qUTiHZUblAmYFbDujqD37BbIrRwZMfIbq4DeGRRKSwWSaxOEa4-e7lXnL2DZhYQHzt7EnEwI1C5Y2eatymiIfz5qZD2UDJb-TbHi7vwY/s320/Seven-Brides-For-Seven-Brothers-seven-brides-for-seven-brothers-5267603-720-540.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do not own the rights</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A growing trend in the parenting world is setting a tight
limit on the amount of TV their kids can watch every day. As a baby sitter, I
am often the enforcer of such rules until mom and dad come home and put on a
show so that they can make dinner. They do this so kids don’t rot their brains
or get wrong impressions of the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I was growing up, I watched A LOT of TV and movies. I
mean a lot; however, my parents and grandparents <i>watched with us</i>, and used each moment as a teaching lesson. For
that I am eternally grateful.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One classic movie that my family has viewed umpteen times is
the 1954 musical <i>Seven Brides for Seven
Brothers</i>. In case you’ve never seen it, it is the *ahem* very realistic
portrayal of seven backwoodsman brothers and their quest for love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Set in Oregon territory in the 1850s, the oldest brother, <b>A</b>dam, meets Milly when he rides into
town to trade grain and pellets for whatever they need on the farm. Upon
introduction, he proposes to her. She accepts, the two get married that day and
then venture back to his cottage in the woods. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not own the rights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFi76ZrMr8Y_nWkoWqvloIC5Xo0_QktZqUTI8jQfrkm8h4_BMdMhrBedXIRh-kD7KzYjcZX-ufqdo0a4mSYlD-Fy-_E9GNaRyhcJuC5E5fUGblfKZt-ZsQn1qr-loBATM0OqpYL5_zP0/s1600/barn+raising.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, he neglects to mention that he lives with his six
younger brothers (<b>B</b>enjamin, <b>C</b>aleb, <b>D</b>aniel, <b>E</b>phraim, <b>F</b>rank, & <b>G</b>ideon) and their lifestyle is an unbelievable mess (that she is
now responsible for cleaning up after). Spunky and sassy, Milly takes none of
this lying down, and she honors her marriage vows while teaching her new
brothers manners and etiquette, guiding them through their new social and
romantic lives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And they all sing and dance! Why on earth would any two
parents show this to three young girls repeatedly as an example of true love
and respect? Because it became a WONDERFUL teaching tool about love, responsibility,
and <b>abstinence</b>. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What?! Yes, that’s right. My parents and loved ones started
elements of “the talk” before we hit kindergarten. Before we knew that there
was “a talk,” they laid the foundation for the values they wanted us to uphold
through life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9hAynp1BTiYFUPyiHbOKwI4Vd-MxwRBOnnwQgCNrIo6Ozj6biPViMkYIGD6waTpejBGGbOnp6OdqcZn2D3ZdBmm8WlLHgIjw8Hf9JnUSp2-hXFIba7tDignE5WXjxizpG-LJQULXVtk/s320/barn+raising+fight.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not own the rights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9hAynp1BTiYFUPyiHbOKwI4Vd-MxwRBOnnwQgCNrIo6Ozj6biPViMkYIGD6waTpejBGGbOnp6OdqcZn2D3ZdBmm8WlLHgIjw8Hf9JnUSp2-hXFIba7tDignE5WXjxizpG-LJQULXVtk/s1600/barn+raising+fight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the film, the boys fumble in love when they
“accidentally” beat up all of the eligible men in town at a barn-raising (what
can I say? It happens…). Depressed and forlorn, these lonesome polecats think
about leaving the farm to just get away. Milly hears this and sends Adam to
talk to them about the trials of love. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Adam, who thinks he knows everything and never needed to
learn etiquette to woo his wife (let this be a lesson, ladies), takes the story
of the “sobbin’ women” from <i>Plutarch’s
Lives</i> and applies it to their predicament. He convinces his brothers that
the best course of action is simply to ride into Town, collect the women and
steal them away to the cabin for seclusion, because that is the true course to
earn requited love. So they do it. And they cause an avalanche so that the
women can’t be returned and the town can’t come to fetch them. BUT THEY FORGOT
TO GET THE PARSON! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When the men return with these petrified, sobbing women,
Milly comes out of the house, on fire with rage and disappointment in the men
in her life. She lovingly gathers the women around her, and after hearing that
the avalanche blocked them all in for the winter, speaks the words that <i>every parent wants his or her daughters to understand
as truth.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRCv3y8545fOnkaqLP9U_XN83ziDYUKpkLGfnxGsQ1xt-DDa7g2zOFyzxU9ZmonL9JqmTX0EGLASnWUoQhHPdCpW2ldGcdaOfqNYpI1bNPUmRYxoacewRxSRu535VkFa85ZQ1wjO0B5E/s1600/Oh+wouldn't+I%3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRCv3y8545fOnkaqLP9U_XN83ziDYUKpkLGfnxGsQ1xt-DDa7g2zOFyzxU9ZmonL9JqmTX0EGLASnWUoQhHPdCpW2ldGcdaOfqNYpI1bNPUmRYxoacewRxSRu535VkFa85ZQ1wjO0B5E/s320/Oh+wouldn't+I%3f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not own the rights</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">She stood in front of the door and said, “This house is for
the girls. As long as they are here, you all will eat and sleep in the barn
with the rest of the livestock.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Men sleep in the barn; women sleep in the house. When were
little, my mom would gather us around and say, “Now why did the boys have to go
sleep somewhere else?” And we would reply, “Because the boys and the girls
weren’t married, and there are only seven beds in the whole house. Boys and
girls can’t sleep in the same bed unless they are married.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Boom. My parents took the time to teach us values as the
standard way for living, not a rare incidence of weird. For the rest of our
lives, men and women sleeping separately before marriage was not only normal,
but necessary. Where else will you find that in popular culture?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are several other important lessons in this film,
which I’m sure I’ll sketch out at another time. If you haven’t seen it, go pick
up a copy! I recommend watching it with one or two friends who have seen it a
lot and totally love it – you won’t be bored, I promise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It wasn’t until fourth grade that I realized: 1) it’s not
exactly normal to talk about premarital living arrangements with your parents,
and 2) the rest of the world didn’t know what I’d always known: sex (and sleeping together) was made
for marriage. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What you watch and what you let your kids watch is
important, don’t get me wrong. But <i>HOW</i>
you watch something makes all the difference. By working with the media, our parents set the Christian standard in
our hearts.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-62895860393714589662013-02-03T12:44:00.001-08:002013-02-03T12:44:16.486-08:00Umbrella manners and Sidewalk Etiquette<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In college, walking is an incredibly prevalent mode of getting
around. It seems great, right? Exercise, time outdoors, and guaranteed social
interaction are all built into your day. What bliss!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFRu3mE688JDFgqRIyPgeXlfsehTdsKV66KDGSHhh6noxZafpvbpzszq7bSH7Dl4Qoy20ZRCgXWJFdDiOv-vLKQ9rDmYMWWALzmWDcZI8sMnFzECTBZdwyFPsAeYagockVGy0urFFDVU/s1600/walk,+don't+walk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFRu3mE688JDFgqRIyPgeXlfsehTdsKV66KDGSHhh6noxZafpvbpzszq7bSH7Dl4Qoy20ZRCgXWJFdDiOv-vLKQ9rDmYMWWALzmWDcZI8sMnFzECTBZdwyFPsAeYagockVGy0urFFDVU/s320/walk,+don't+walk.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Open Sans'; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">No copyright infringement intended. Discovered on pinterest.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">HOWEVER, at my school there is a chronic problem with
pedestrian selfishness<sup>1</sup>, <i>especially
during rainy weather</i>. As a local driver and fellow pedestrian, I have
witnessed the many problems and dangerous situations this solipsism<sup>2 </sup></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">causes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So here is a preliminary code of conduct that could
be used as a reference almost anywhere! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You might wonder, “Katie,
how can there be a Christian perspective on <i>walking</i>?”
Glad you asked, friend.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Proverbs 20:11 says, “It is by his
deeds that a lad distinguishes himself<br />
if his conduct is pure and right.” And Galations 5:13 says, “<span style="background-color: white;">For
you were called to</span> <span style="background-color: white;">freedom, brethren;</span> <span style="background-color: white;">only</span> <i><span style="background-color: white;">do</span></i> <span style="background-color: white;">not</span> <i><span style="background-color: white;">turn</span></i> <span style="background-color: white;">your freedom into an opportunity for the flesh,
but through love</span> <span style="background-color: white;">serve one another."</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">***I do not in any way mean to
imply or state that I am the judge for what is pure and right; however, there needs to be a jumping off point for what is and is not acceptable.
Perhaps we can learn as global community can serve each other in these ways!
Concurrently, Psalm 141:3 says, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“<span style="background: #FFFEFD; color: #001320; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth;
Keep watch over the door of my lips.” </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will admit that in my time I have, (ahem) not always thought of or spoken loving words in
these frustrating interactions (such as “umbrella altercations,” “pedestrian
apparitions,” or “Move glitch! Get out’ the way!”). And thus, this is the padlock on my indiscrete internal comments…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The New American Code of Sidewalk
Protocol, Vol. I: </span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">observe</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; font-variant: small-caps;"> Mutual Occupational Voyage Etiquette</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">Acceptable
and appropriate communication</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> henceforth is a
wave or other gracious gesture (i.e., a smile, mouthing the words “Thank you,”
[obvious] head nod with a simultaneous eyebrow raise) shall be used to indicate
the following:</span></li>
<ol>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwrJE2Nq0mB4tA2DW6z4ZtNKDdJ51A9ZR8v2gmq5L4h-hlWpDj5_dtcyCQf95itjNdnWeDL4qQo-PzQ6J6Kzmv-Z6ob6iFH2E9AFkzu0TlnIg0xLhi01fIGqh3LLPBceOCxbvV6alF14/s1600/Nod!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwrJE2Nq0mB4tA2DW6z4ZtNKDdJ51A9ZR8v2gmq5L4h-hlWpDj5_dtcyCQf95itjNdnWeDL4qQo-PzQ6J6Kzmv-Z6ob6iFH2E9AFkzu0TlnIg0xLhi01fIGqh3LLPBceOCxbvV6alF14/s200/Nod!.jpg" width="146" /></a>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Do you see me?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Yes, I see you. Please
go ahead.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Thank you very much.
Have a lovely day!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">*In the event that an
umbrella is in use, the umbrella may be raised or tipped as an extension of
gracious communicative gestures.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">A
pedestrian must never assume</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> that a driver
“must be able to see them” or “just needs to stop.” Measures, such as the aforementioned
acceptable gestures should be used to confirm visibility</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Indeed, in Virginia,
pedestrians in the crosswalk have the right of way; however, sometimes weather
conditions or time of day makes it INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT to see a pedestrian in
general. </span><b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Please be mindful that being in
the right legally can’t keep you out of the hospital literally.</b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> Make them
see you.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">In the event of umbrella-appropriate precipitation</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">, the umbrella should be held in the hand
most to the outside of the path to accommodate umbrellas from the opposite flow
of traffic.</span></li>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Appropriate
measures should be employed to prevent the prongs of any umbrella entering the
ocular area. In the event that this happens, please help your victim seek
appropriate medical attention.</span></li>
</ol>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">Large umbrellas might be shared in a gesture of
friendship</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> with fellow sidewalk
commuters enduring the day with a lack of umbrella. In areas of high umbrella
occupancy, umbrellas can also be shared to reduce congestion and risk of
injury.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">Pedestrians are responsible for minding their speed and
location</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> in the sidewalk traffic
pattern. Please walk in a straight path and yield to those who hasten to their
destination, as they might be time constrained.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-variant: small-caps; text-indent: -0.25in;">Parties of more than two should distribute themselves
appropriately</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> as to not force
others into the street, into the mud, puddles or other unpleasant and
potentially dangerous (or yucky) vicinities due to disproportional allocation
of the public space.</span></li>
</ol>
Something missing? Please propose your own additions in the comments!<br />
<div>
<!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br clear="all" />
</span><br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<br />
<div id="ftn">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">1 </span>Concerned excessively
or exclusively with oneself: seeking or concentration on one’s own advantage,
pleasure or well-being without regard for others</span></div>
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><sup>2</sup> A theory holding that the self can know
nothing but its own modifications and that the self is the only existent thing;
also: extreme egocentrism</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-20549722673018523572013-02-03T09:12:00.001-08:002013-02-03T09:12:45.953-08:00Should happens<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is safe to say that I am abnormally close with my mother (and darn grateful to be so), especially at my age.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a junior in college, there are several things to consider, concerning the future, my vocation as a daughter of God, my education. In the last few weeks, I have spent a lot of time talking to her about what I "should" do, how I "should" feel. And after a while, she finally said, "Katie, I think you 'should' too much." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What on earth does this mean? God created us to do good, so naturally, there are right and wrong things to do and say. In that sense, you can't "should" too much!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I don't think that is what my mom was trying to say. See, as I've gotten older, I've come to realize what many have realized before me. Mark Twain said, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished by how much he had learned in seven years."</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I've never thought that my mother and father were ignorant, but I seldom fully appreciated their wisdom. What my great momma was getting at is comparing my internal life to the external lives of the other people in my life. There is a limit to the amount of one's internal self is shown through behavior to the general public, but besides that <b>I am the only me there will ever be</b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Jeremiah 29:11 says, <i>"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was recently at a Catholic Students' conference, and one of speakers said, "When your parents conceived you, God thought to himself, 'What does the world need right now?' And your face entered his mind. He sent you here for a specific purpose and there is no other person who can fill in for you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After the fall of man, vanity and comparing myself to other people is almost inevitable, but each time I think, "I should look.... like this person," or "I should do .... like this person," or even "I should feel differently.... because of this," I will strive to remember that I am an individual. Should happens every day, but God's plan for me in this world is constant, and I will continue to pray to realize it. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00565363115306279064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5152336740805489272.post-24360269838011094292013-01-09T18:52:00.000-08:002013-01-09T18:52:30.822-08:00Why blog? Why now?If I was asked to describe myself with one word, I would confidently speak my favorite word: Catholic.<br />
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I have just returned from SEEK 2013, a national Fellowship of Catholic University Students (http://www.focus.org/) conference, and it was the most wonderful, educational, inspirational, exhausting, prayerful, glorious weeks of my life! Imagine being surrounded by friends and scholars while bearing witness to over 50 speakers, 125 priests, dozens of sisters and religious, teaching the grace and glory of God through the truth of the Catholic Church. These men and women use their gifts and talents as speakers, listeners, musicians, etc. to glorify God every day!<br />
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It was an amazing, life changing experience. Together, along with 6,200 other Catholic college students, I could attend daily mass, adoration, confession, and ask questions of the experts around me. We asked a lot of those around us, but I felt I needed to ask a few questions of myself: How am I living my life to serve God? And what are God's gifts to me?<br />
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These are hard questions to ask and they're tougher still to answer, but important. If I can identify my God-given gifts and strengths, then perhaps I can find the correct path to glorifying him, and more easily identify his calling for my life. </div>
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A few ideas of my talents came to my mind immediately, but I doubt the New Evangelization calls for a Netflix troller or Sporcle player extraordinaire.<br />
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Words are useful though. I know words. Sometimes I can even put them together coherently, and I have had a journal for as long as I can remember. So a new resolution this year is to devote time every week researching, writing and discussing topics in my life as a woman in college with the ever truthful and wise perspective of the Catholic Church.<br />
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